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Unnumber'd eyes, just glimm'ring on the verge
Of death's dark precincts, and o'erwhelming surge,
Seem'd to implore his aid, and gently say,
“Oh! wand'ring stranger, hither bend thy way.”
“One moment help a wounded wretch forlorn.”
“Pluck the deep bullet from my bosom torn.”
“Screen from my quiv'ring limbs the nightly dew.”
Or, “bear to some lov'd name, a last adieu.”
Such countless claims on soft compassion's aid,
Such pallid forms in clotted garb array'd,
All panting for a friend to sooth their breath,
Or trembling in the iron grasp of death;
With bleeding pity fill'd the wand'rer's heart:
Unknowing where assistance first to dart,
Awhile he paus'd; till, near a murder'd heap,
Where stones might grieve, or tyrants learn to weep,
He saw a Youth bare to the evening gale,
Silent and sad, and as the snow-drop pale,
Feebly withstanding life's expiring tide,
As lying on the ground, he press'd his wounded side:
One hand, tho' cold, and rudely smear'd with gore,
In the faint grasp a Female's picture bore;
And as his eye-lid seem'd to heave its last,
Dead to the future, heedless of the past,
On the fond maid (as death itself might move),
He fix'd the lingering look of faithful love.
With lightning's speed, Orlando rush'd to save
So fair a victim from the gaping grave;
Upheld his sinking head, and sooth'd his pain,
And sought to bear him from the blood-moist plain.
Call'd from the shore of death's unebbing tide,
With sickly smile the Youth Orlando ey'd,
Wav'd his weak hand, and utter'd with a sigh,
“In peace, oh! gen'rous stranger, let me die;
“Others there are who more require thy aid,
“Mine eyes, low sinking, court the hov'ring shade.”
Orlando cry'd, (whilst dropt the pitying tear),
“Oh! heed a friend, if friendship's voice can cheer
“On the cold confines of the dark-wav'd lake,
“And let mine heart thy rending pangs partake;
“Say, bleeding Youth, what urg'd thee thus to stray
“Far from thy kindred and thy coast away?
“To dare the fight with indignation blind,
“To lift the spear against thy fellow kind?
“Know'st thou the cause for which the crimson tide
“Deserts thine heart, and oozes from thy side?
“Perchance some statesman's pique, some shrine profan'd,
“A flag insulted, or a skiff detain'd;
“These blow the blasts of war; whose noxious breath
“Fills the wide earth with discord, dread, and death.
“Speak; gently speak, that some may mark thy grave,
“And flee from blood, the nurture tyrants crave.”